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I can’t feel anything there yet, no little kicks or wiggles. My stomach is still flat and toned, but I love knowing that a small life is growing in my belly.
“How could you?” Dad asks, his tone flat with fury. And when I study his face, I see a look of betrayal I hadn’t anticipated in the slightest.
“How could I what?” I ask, frowning in confusion. The hair on the back of my neck rises as I get the sudden sense that this isn’t going to go at all how I imagined.
“How could you do this to us?” Mom cuts in, her voice scathing. “Are you kidding? Getting pregnant on the eve of your father’s election. Did you do it on purpose?”
I honestly don’t know how to respond. “Did I get pregnant on purpose?” I echo, the question sounding so odd on my lips that it seems to make even less sense when I repeat it. I feel stupid just regurgitating their questions, but I’m so astonished I genuinely don’t know what they mean. They can’t possibly think I got knocked up intentionally, can they?
“Did you get pregnant to punish us?”
“Punish you?” I ask, my voice jumping an octave.
Maybe I really have gone crazy because this conversation makes absolutely no sense. My fury spikes dangerously, flooding my face with heat as it all comes full circle. Of course, they would find a way to make my pregnancy about them.
“Yes, did you stop taking your birth control to prove a point? What, did you want to force our hand about accepting your criminal boyfriend? You thought if you had a baby, we would have to welcome him into the family?”
“I can’t believe you would even suggest that,” I snap. “I’ve taken my birth control religiously since you put me on it at age sixteen. Even though I spent three of those years abstaining from sex completely. And now you want to accuse me of being reckless just to punish you? I feel like all I’ve ever done is think about how my life might affect the family. And it’s never good enough for you, is it?”
“I would hardly think this demonstrates you’ve been thinking about the family. It seems to me you haven’t been thinking at all lately. Pregnant at nineteen? And with a man who got himself killed participating in the exact thing your father is trying so hard to stop. You’re so selfish, Dani. How could I not think you got pregnant on purpose?”
“It doesn’t matter why you got pregnant,” Dad cuts in, his voice authoritative. “What matters is what we do about it.”
“She needs to get an abortion,” Mom states frankly. She turns to my dad to talk about me as if I’m no longer in the room or a part of this conversation.
Anxiety trickles into my gut at the suggestion. “I am not getting an abortion,” I state passionately, my hands fisting as I try to keep my temper in check. We need to have a rational conversation, but my parents are making that very nearly impossible.
“Dani, be reasonable,” Dad says, turning to meet my eyes. “You’re too young to have a child.”
“I’m not too young to have sex with the man I love, and sometimes, that leads to a child, so I disagree. I might not have wanted or intended to get pregnant. But that’s what happened. And I’m not going to end my child’s life just because ‘I’m too young,’” I say firmly.
“There’s no need to rush into parenthood. Wait until you’ve found a good man, someone who can love and support you. Then try again,” he reasons, as if he’s only thinking of what’s good for me.
“I did find that man. He was taken from me. And I’m not about to get rid of the baby we made together because you think you know what’s best for me. This is all I have left of Efrem. I want to honor his memory by raising his child and loving it the way I know he would. The way I know I can.”
“Honey, don’t throw your life away for a dead man,” Mom says, her tone gentle even as her words cut deep.
“I’m not,” I say flatly, my fury ripping through me with overwhelming force.
“I can’t support you strapping your life to an anchor that will only bring you—and your family—down. I won’t,” Dad states firmly. “You’re too young to have a child, and your reasons for keeping it clearly demonstrate that.”
My stomach knots at the sound of my father putting his foot down. However I expected my parents to react, this was not it.
“I know it’s scary, Dani. But I promise this is the right decision,” Mom adds, tag-teaming me as she pretends to be the nice, reasonable parent now.
But if they think they’re going to convince me to abort this baby, then they’re crazy.
“No,” I state flatly. “I’m not getting rid of my baby. And if you can’t support me in that, then I’ll find a way to take care of it on my own. If you don’t want to help me, then fine. This baby is the only family I need.”
Sliding off the exam table, I wobble unsteadily on my feet.
After being unable to keep food down for so long, I’m sure I’m nutrient-starved, and it’s making me lightheaded. Fear grips my chest as I worry for the first time about what my lack of sustenance might be doing to the baby.
I need to speak with a health counselor. Someone who can tell me what to do to ensure my child is getting what it needs.
“Dani,” Dad scolds gently, extending his palm as if to help me.
“Don’t,” I snap. “I can’t believe you would go so far as to put your public image ahead of your daughter’s unborn child. But if you can’t understand and accept my decision, then I’ll figure it out on my own. I just need a few days to figure out a plan. Then I’ll leave so you and Mom won’t have to worry about your stupid reputation being tarnished.”
